El Submarino...genius

If the world cup wasn't enough to convince you of the genius of the Argentinians and Uruguayans, check out how they make hot chocolate.



Submerge an entire bar of chocolate into a glass of hot leche. (That's Spanish for milk--can you tell how well my lessons are coming along?) Said leche can contain vanilla, but it's not vital.



Give it a good stir, and if you're an absolute hedonist add the packets of sugar that are kindly provided. Continue on with the stirring until the chocolate bar has disolved. Marvel at the ingenuity of South Americans.

Korean food in Peru

It's no secret that I eat Korean food when I'm stressed out. And it's no secret that learning new things stresses me out. So when I had my Spanish class--4 hours in a row one on one with a teacher that didn't speak much English--I finished the session near tears and the only thing I could think of to quell my discomfort was a giant Korean dinner.



As usual, there are always some sort odd substitutions or additions based on what's available. This time there were red onions in the bimbimbap, which was served with a plate of shredded lettuce. Regardless of the relative poverty level of the country I'm in, a Korean lunch always costs two to three times as much as local fare, but due to its calming effect on me, it's always worth it. And this one was definitely on the better end of the scale for Korean food in random locals.

Sa Rang Che, Calle Procuradores 341, Cusco, Peru

The wonder of Argentinan buses

In Argentina flights are expensive, and most people choose to get around by the extensive bus system in the country. While in Bolivia, where one bus journey actually had me weeping before 8am, I attempted to console myself with the stories I had heard about the Argentine buses. "Once we're over the border, the streets will be paved with gold and a guy in a tie will serve us champagne on the buses," I'd say pathetically, sitting in a sub-zero thirty-year-old bus after being forced to call yet another barren field by the side of the road a bathroom.

The thing is, Argentina is a big country so the bus journeys are very long. This is a dinner from a 23-hour trip that I took last week.



The bus food is a little bland looking, but surprisingly good and tend to always contain at least some beef, and crustless white bread sandwiches (they sell sliced bread sans crust in South America). Note the large plastic cup of vino. Even wine on the bus ain't bad in Argentina.

Bolivian Salteñas

Saltenas are Bolivia's answer to the empanada or pasty. They are similar to empanadas but are known for being very moist, like a stew inside a pastry. They are football-shaped, and some people crack them down the middle and eat them with a spoon. Others say it is a test of skill to nibble it down top to bottom without spilling the juice on yourself.



They are filled with meat (beef or chicken), hard boiled eggs, peas, potatoes, raisins and olives. They are slight spicy and surprisingly sweet, including the pastry dough.



They use gelatin when making the filling, then chill it into a solid before assembling and baking. As the dough bakes the filling begins to melt and results in the soupy insides. Because of this, saltenas must be eaten immediately or the insides get mushy. Most places sell them in the morning and have run out before noon. Good motivation for waking up early.

Meat, hot dogs and French fries in Bolivia

On my last night in Bolivia I had grown tired of Bolivian food. To be fair, I was tired of it after approximately 6 hours in Bolivia. I've been traveling for 8 months now, and for all of it I've been eating almost exclusively local cuisine. In Bolivia, though, I gave up quickly on local fare and shamefully, started eating at tourist restaurants. I was eating spaghetti more nights than I wasn't. Even that was turning sour though, when I was most recently served a bowl of stringy egg noodles with a sauce that most closely resembles Kraft's Macaroni and Cheese "Cheezy Sauce" while claiming to be amatriciana.

The cuisine of Bolivia appears to consist almost entirely of meat and French fries. I've been traveling with a vegetarian recently, a member of the group my father famously refers to as "liars." My new pal has been a vegetarian for many years, but decided to forgo the disorder while traveling in South America due to the complication of sticking to a vegetarian diet. We now go from restaurant to restaurant while I look in vain for anything sans French fries or containing a green vegetable while she happily tucks into meals that consist of meat and potatoes with a side of meat and French fries and meat. This is my sort of vegetarian.

On my last night in Bolivia we went to the Alamo in Tupiza. The place was decorated like a tourist restaurant, and reports claimed that they served pasta and Mexican food (a surefire mark of tourist-only clientelle). But when we sat down and looked at the menu, there were only a few things on it. All meat, and all costing between 10-15 Bolivianos (less than $2). The Mexican food and pasta had been taken off the menu, the prices were half of the tourist joints down the street and the large majority of the tables were occupied by bona fide Bolivian families.

I wasn't pleased to be dragged into yet another meat shack, but when I was told that one of the dishes was stir-fried, I decided to go for it and was pleasantly surprised. They called it "migas." Unfortunately I didn't get any great pictures because of the lighting, but as you can see it's a masterpiece in terms of aesthetic sensibilities and contained an entire serving of vegetables. It was the first meal I had in Bolivia that I felt pleased with, and I secretly relished the squiggles of mayo on the beef stir fry. The vivisected hot dog with a dollop of both ketchup and mustard as a centerpiece was a particularly appreciated touch.

The Alamo, Calle Avaroa 703, Tupiza, Bolivia

Bolivian street food

Jello with whipped cream, cups of whipped cream, and a bucket of whipped cream.


A wheelbarrow filled with potato chips.


Jello with Saltine crackers.

Vegetable stall in Hanoi

I meant to post this back in February when I took this, but was reminded when writing my post about Sucre today. Although this appears to be just a pile of vegetables in the middle of the street, there actually was a woman manning this stall--I took the picture when her back was turned.

Sucre's fruit juice market

Sucre is arguably Bolivia's most beautiful city. Unarguably, probably, but since I didn't go to them all I'm in no position to argue or not-argue. That said, it was aesthetically pleasing to your hero, with its white colonial buildings, cathedrals and convents.

But it was Sucre's market that I found most beautiful. Unlike most of the markets around the developing world it did not stink, for reasons that I did not ascertain--although it might be due to the fact that it is winter in temperate Sucre right now, and as such, the cuts of meat that hang out all day remain relatively chilled. In many markets of the world the vegetables can look fresh but filthy, generally resting on the pavement that 10,000 motorbikes have just tread. But not in Sucre, lovely Sucre, where the vegetables are piled high above where the feral dogs play.

But the best part about the Sucre market, and the reason that I visited twice a day while I was there, was the juice ladies.



There are at least 10 ladies with juice stands, each completely indistingishable from the next. For an average of $0.40, they will juice just about anything for you. Carrots, mangos, oranges, guanabana, papaya, whatever. Juices can also be served "con leche" which is a polite way of asking for your previously healthy beverage to be turned into a condensed milk concoction more closely resembling a strawberry sundae from Swensen's than a fruit juice. (Rest easy, my concerned pals, I held off.)



The juices are served in a tall ice cream glasses. The best part about the whole operation is that when you are done, you hand the glass back to the juice woman and she says "un poco mas?" and if you nod, she fills the glass up another three-quarters full. Bliss.



And for the less juicily inclinded, they also make a mean fruit salad that can contain any of the following: coconut, fruit-flavored yogurt, saltines, chocolate syrup, puffed rice, whipped cream and, of course, fruit.

Peek-a-boo!

If there's one thing they love in Bolivia, it's meat. If there's another, it's French fries. (If there's one thing they don't love, it's making their long distance buses even slightly comfortable, but that's another story.) Most meals in Bolivia--even the ones that already have a serving of rice--come with a side of fries. Even potatoes come with a side of fries. So when I got this giant plate of meat, I was fairly surprised to find that there wasn't a French fry to be seen.



Oh you wily Bolvianos! The fries were just hidden under the chuleta a la plancha, aka grilled steak. As if a plate of rice porridge, steak and (potentially unwashed) vegetables wasn't enough!



The above game of French fry peek-a-boo was brought to you by a three course meal (plus linaza, a flax seed beverage) for a sum total of $1.70.